Letters Home
by Bittersweet Romanticide
Summary: May can't think of anything to put in a letter to her mother. Can Drew make her life more interesting? All dialogue, contestshipping. DAML.


"Hi, Max!"

"You called collect long distance. I don't think you could have started this any worse if you had picked up the phone and yelled 'I hate you' into it."

"Just put Mom on."

"Can't. Only letters, remember? Mom wants to _connect _to her precious little girl, who's all grown up and traveling the world and it's so sad that you're never coming back."

"That bad?"

"She's been getting annoying about it. It'd be bad enough if she only did it once a day, but she does it again and again and again. She once did it _twelve _times in one day. _Twelve. _So write the letters so we have some hope of her stopping! _Please_, May! I can't take this much longer!"

"And it's only April. Imagine how bad she'll be next month."

"Don't joke. Dad and I are thinking of building a bomb shelter. If you want us to live you _better _write the letters."

"I can't. I don't have anything to say."

"Hello, Max! May, you can always lie in your letter. Your mom will never know."

"Hi Drew!"

"Who invited you? This is a private conversation between me and my brother!"

"It's my brother and I."

"Shut up, Max. You're not helping! We want him to _leave_, remember?"

"He's helping. It _is _May and I, if you want to be grammatically correct."

"Well, I _don't_. Don't you have something better to do?"

"Some training, but nothing to write home about. We've got the same problem, don't we, May?"

"Drew, please go away."

"But this is the most interesting thing to happen to me in weeks. It's either this or I'll be way more annoying at the contest, which I'm p_robably_ going to win."

"You are _not _going to…you aren't invited to the conversation. Ever. I'm talking about connecting with my mother through letters and you want me to lie. You're a bad advice…giver…thing. I don't know. Stop smirking!"

"You can't connect if you're only talking about weather and contests, you have to talk about yourself. If you're not going to do that, you might as well lie."

"Even if I _was _going to lie, what would I-"

"It's pretty obvious you don't need me anymore."

"Max! Don't hang…this was supposed to be a family thing!"

"You could lie and say you have a boyfriend."

"She doesn't really want me to date."

"You could say he's a biker and he tattoo'd your face on his arm. That's love."

"She'd _die_."

"Heart attacks do that to a person. The boyfriend thing isn't a bad idea. You can make up the perfect guy, save up all the exciting stuff that happens while you're talking about him, and then dump the imaginary guy. You'll have plenty of exciting stuff to spread out over your letters and you're set for a while."

"I dump him?"

"He loves you too much. He makes you macaroni art and it's creepy. You dump him."

"I'm supposed to dump an imaginary guy?"

"You can't have an imaginary boyfriend forever and you don't really want to get dumped by someone who doesn't exist, right?"

"I don't know. I don't want to hurt his feelings."

"He's imaginary."

"I guess, but it doesn't feel right."

"He isn't real."

"But I made him and then I just dump him? I felt bad when my imaginary friend got the flu!"

"But you imagined him getting the flu, so it was your fault."

"Oh, Arceus! I gave Tania the flu!"

"But she wasn't…you can't play video games either, can you?"

"No. I feel bad when I have to kill something. Why can't everyone just get along?"

"Because then there's no purpose to the game and it's boring. Speaking of boring, let's get back to your life. Why can't you just lie and make up something exciting?"

"I can't lie. I don't like to unless it's necessary."

"You don't find this necessary?"

"No, not really. I mean, not unless someone was dying."

"You need someone to die if you're going to tell a little white lie?"

"It sounds stupid if you say it that way."

"You can make it sound smart?"

"I need someone to _die _if I'm going to tell a little white lie."

"That only makes it sound crazy."

"It does _not_!"

"What if I threaten to kill myself if you don't write the letter?"

"Drew!"

"That _hurt_. When did you turn into a hitter?"

"I won't lie to my mom. I'm just not a liar. When I was traveling with Ash I always had something to write about, something exciting happened every week. Now nothing ever happens. All I do is train and do contests, and I love those, it's just that they don't happen often enough to put in a letter and nothing's ever exciting! I have nothing to write and now my mom and I are never going to bond!"

"Thanks for the life story."

"That's not even _half _of it. Yesterday, I was walking down the path and my foot started hurting and-"

"You haven't gone on any adventures with your imaginary camera crew?"

"Not a one! Who would have thought traveling could be so boring? Ugh. I haven't even seen a puddle. Just trees and grass."

"You didn't see that gorgeous waterfall on the way over here?"

"There was a waterfall!"

"No. I lied. See how easy it is?"

"You're such a jerk."

"And you've got writer's block. Seriously, May, what _are _you going to write?"

"That you're a _jerk_."

"I don't think your mom will like that very much."

"Probably not. Any other lie ideas?"

"You could write about kissing me, and how you swooned because I was so great at it, like everything else I do."

"Or not."

"It'd make a good letter."(1)

"More like a fantasy."

"_Your _fantasy?"

"No, yours. I'd never find _anything _to fantasize about if it involved you! Not unless it was beating you in a contest, which I will when it comes around tomorrow! Then I'll have a letter! I just wish I had something to-"

"There you go."

"What was _that_ for?"

"Something to write home about."

**

* * *

**

Cheesy, I know, but I was bored with nothing better to do. It's something for something's sake. If you got a chuckle out of it, it's done its job. I don't really know why I wrote this but, nyeh, we'll see if anyone enjoyed it.

And, in case anyone didn't get it: he kissed her at the end.

(1) to Penthouse


End file.
